CORPERS LODGE (SEVEN)

I hope to God my pastor is not reading this. If you are a non-pastor reader who missed last episode, click HERE. *Winks*

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Micah and I stood by the expressway at Ikirun waiting for Helen’s bus to arrive from Oshogbo. We were still dressed in our khaki, having come straight from CDS meeting. I had four thousand naira in my pocket—one thousand from my account and three thousand that Micah just lent me. So we stood waiting for Helen, knowing that four thousand wouldn’t serve the Trojan Princess, knowing that Uncle Dayo and the NCCF family would have my hide for insulting Rural Rugged Evangelism.

I sighed.

First, Dayo trusted me and I abused his trust by going to a dibia; he forgave me. He helped cleanse me. He gave me chance in the pulpit to speak to the brethren. And I repay him by bringing a girl to Cemetery Lodge! I hissed. If I were Dayo, I would curse me…

I hissed.

Micah looked at me and smiled encouragingly. I frowned. I looked away. It was normal for Micah to smile encouragements, what had he to lose? I was now in debt, insulting NCCF and risking an eternal curse. I looked at Micah; he was hiding behind dark glasses and my frown deepened. I noticed for the first time that Micah was quite good-looking; tall, fresh-skinned and oozing with confidence, near innocence and charm. If Helen were to be asked to choose between us I knew who she would prefer—she wouldn’t choose me!

The thought burnt me so hard in the chest, I had to unbutton my khaki jacket for air to reach my heart. I would break Micah’s handsome nose one of these days, I swore. I am twenty times smarter than him, I kept telling myself but this didn’t help my resentment.

‘What is biting you?’ Micah asked me.

I reached for my dark glasses on my forehead and shut my eyes.

# #

Helen was the last to come down from the bus. She was wearing a white sleeveless over tight jeans. She looked tired but even this didn’t darken her glamour. She made for the boot and brought down her suitcase and holdall. ‘She’s a masterpiece,’ Micah breathed as we began to make towards the bus. She saw us and squealed with joy and flew into my arms. ‘Oh K, I missed you so much!’

‘Me too.’

‘I am so tired.’

I grunted. She looked at Micah. ‘Meet Micah,’ I said hurriedly. She extended sleek hand. ‘He is so cute.’

‘He is married with kids,’ I said.

She looked at me with doubt.

‘With three kids actually,’ Micah said.

‘And his wife is heavy with a fourth.’

‘Jesus, but he’s so young! Does your wife stay with you?’

‘No, but he sends her two-third of his allowances,’ I said.

Helen looked at Micah with pity. ‘You must be hungry,’ I said.

‘Oh K, I am starving!’

# #

We put Helen’s suitcase in front of the motorcycle. Helen sat behind the bikeman, I sat behind her with the holdall on my lap and Micah sat behind me. ‘Mehn, I am sitting on the carrier,’ Micah complained.

She actually pronounced bikes ‘by-kisses’. How would she know that I was dangerously running out of money? We just spent a thousand naira in the restaurant. By jam-packing ourselves in one bike I would pay 500 naira instead of three hundred each in different ‘by-kisses’. ‘Oh K, this is too much on mee!’

I sighed. ‘Babe, this is the best way to travel here because of the danger of head-hunters. We take individual bikes and you may end up in the hands of ritual guys. Election is by the corner.’

She caught her breath and grabbed my palm. ‘I am so afraid.’

‘Don’t worry, we are here.’

Micah pinched me and I leered at her hair.

Helen didn’t say anything until we began to pass a road lined up with wears shops in either side. ‘K, look at that blue gown, I soo love it!’

After paying the bikeman, I would have 2500 naira in me, and she dared admire a blue gown! I pretended not to have heard. ‘K, isn’t the gown so cute?’ she propped. ‘It is. Micah, did I give you my ID card?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I thought you gave it to Dayo.’

‘I have collected it but I can’t find it.’

‘We will ask the CLO then.’

‘Yes we will. When will your CDS group submit their report?’ I hadn’t lost my ID card, I didn’t want to know about some miserable CDS report; I just knew that the only way to stop the pressure of Helen’s wanton admirations was to keep talking. Micah, God bless his soul, understood, so we kept talking nonsense, suppressing Helen’s exorbitant wishes.

# #

When the motorcycle stopped before Cemetery Lodge, my heart-beat was deafening. Please God, let it be that Uncle Dayo wasn’t at home. Let it be that he had gone to the mountain where he would pray for 21 days and 21 nights…

‘You live in the cemetery,’ Helen said. I got down the bike with a burning nose. Micah chuckled. ‘We live opposite the cemetery,’ he corrected.

She inspected the atmosphere with her nose and eyes, mostly with her nose. ‘O gosh, this is too rural.’

I paid the bikeman and reached for Helen’s suitcase. ‘I thought you were serving in Oshogbo,’ she said.

I live in Ohio, I was tempted to say. Micah chuckled as I grabbed hold of the suitcase and my temper. God please make me deaf (and dumb!) for the rest of her stay here, I prayed. We carried Helen’s luggage inside without meeting Dayo or any other obstacle on the way. At the door, Micah whispered into my ear, ‘Where will she go toilet?’

‘When we get there we cross it,’ I said hotly.

Micah laughed. I hissed. Helen looked at me. ‘Is like you have hot temper o.’

You never see anything.

# #

Helen was lying on the bed with her beautiful head on my lap. She was wearing bum shorts under something that was too small to be called a vest and too large to be called brassieres which cut her breasts into two, revealing the larger chunk. This and the sight of her most striking legs left my mouth waterless. But somewhere inside of me, the fear of Dayo/NCCF kept me civil.

Helen was having a wonderful time. She was sucking a lollypop and chattering. She would suck the sweet then feed me the sweet; I would suck for few seconds, then she would remove it and return it into her handsome mouth. So romantic. I just wished this was happening in 2017, a million miles from Osun.

Somehow, my hand fell on her chest.

‘I thought you were crippled.’ She laughed.

As I began to caress a knock sounded on the door. My hand snapped off as though it had been laid on electric cooker. I listened. The knock increased in sound and urgency.

‘Who is it?’ I couldn’t recognise my voice.

‘It is me,’ Uncle Dayo said. My heart sank.

‘Who is that?’ Helen asked as she put the lollipop in my mouth.

‘Please get up and put on something decent,’ I said.

Helen frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Kings, open the door na,’ Uncle called. I looked at Helen, ‘Please get something; it’s the NCCF uncle…’

‘And so? Is he a virgin?

I blinked at her.

She frowned at me. ‘Are you a virgin?’

I sighed.

‘What arrant nonsense,’ Helen said as she rose to her feet. ‘If he has never seen a woman in bum shorts before, let him say so.’

I am taking a break. The other day, I was talking to a lady I like real well and she suddenly said, ‘Mehn, you are thin, you need to fleshen up’. I went to the mirror and I didn’t like what I saw. I decided something must pay for my stress. I brought out my axe, I looked around, I saw my blog and kpam, I axed it. I am going away in search of rest or whatever (not even sure), have been blogging constantly since January. Haba! I don’t know when I will come back and won’t speculate. In this era of false prophecies, count me out. I may come back after one week, or one month, or two years, or never. Only the father knoweth. I shall return like a pickpocket in the night. Two people shall be gisting in their room, and suddenly one person will receive my blog alert on email; two people will be strolling on Facebook and one of them will stumble on my link. Somebody will be sipping garri and groundnut and my call will interrupt to announce my return…

For now, I will just relax, maybe sit on a balcony, with a binocular and watch as co-bloggers scurry around chasing traffic in a country where people are too hungry to read. What the people really need is bread link, not blog link, aswear. God help us.

Thanks to everyone who reads me, who shares me, who talks about Hard Voices, you have kept me in business. God bless all of una, and make you bigger than the next bet (just for reading a blog? why not!) See you when we see. Kisses.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I read this and laughed so hard my friend was asking if I’m OK! Lols!!!!!
Kai!!! That Helen no #MammyWaterGirl o! Hehehehehehehehe!!!!!!
Wow! Wonderful episode!
Captivating to the end!
Errrrr….*coughs into palm* Did I just here that you’re going on an indefinite break? Haaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!
See ehn, I’m not against your taking break at all, mbanu. But indefinite??? Haba naa!!
What do you want us to do in your absence o! Read the walls? Lols!
Abeg, help us here. I can only grant you one month leave, no more, no less!
Hahahahahaha!!!!
See you when you get back (hopefully, it won’t be too long)

Back to your comment. Glad you ain’t letting your selfie-shness run away with your sense of half-time. Thanks, Kelvin. Among guys, no one follows this blog and say so more than you do! Wish I can do more than say ‘Eshe ghan’, so wish.

To Helen… what God has joined together, let no uncle or bum shorts put asunder!

Just when she confirmed you were not cripple, uncle knocked. Shouldn’t he be leading the family song somewhere else at that moment? That thing can pain, but it’s a good thing all the same.

You got me cracking repeatedly.

We won’t come in the way of your hiatus, but I do hope you return like that pickpocket in the night soon. Return with the witty and heavily humorous servings of yours, else I’ll hunt you (with koboko in one hand and a bow in the other) like you failed the city. 🙂

Men, the thing tires somebody sef. Sighs. We can only sigh, men of God do no wrong, they are doing their work, safeguarding bodies from sins. Thanks for following this series Senor, can never fully express my appreciation nor describe the joy seeing you here make me feel. Your presence here is a much needed endorsement from higher authority.

Man, I am going to rest so much, I need it. i am glad I have your permission to enjoy my half-time. I swear to do everything in my powers to get better, in all angles (so help me God). Your koboko etc might be idle after all. I won’t fail me, you and everyone else.

Oh no,u are not going on any break! Hell no! Not in the middle of this juicy part. Mba nu! Besides,who said you are thin? You are fashionably thin,see the difference? Hilarious episode btw,you won’t kill us with ur antics sha….

Nice to see you here, pity am going; pity but no pity because as you are new and we have a lot of stories in the archive you should check. Man, there are series, thriller, tragedies, comedies, stories, thoughts, poems. If you begin browsing the site I assure you you wouldn’t cover a quarter of them before we hit back. Now that you are here, it will be shame if you don’t flex this site real well.

I can’t wait to read Dayo’s reaction! And this is why going on a break now is quite unfair. You are leaving us with a cliff hanger. But on the other hand, you need rest when you think you do. . . What will be totally unfair is if you come back late. . .

Finally Ayodele comes around to this and trust him to applaud trouble-rain-maker Helen. Being crippled isn’t unholiness–if your hand will put you to sin, cut it off said a certain Jesus of Nazareth. Shame, I didn’t have a knife handy, no liver in my wall.

I appreciate your understanding to my taking a break write at now. You see, half-time is a constitutional right of everyone. So I take it. I promise you (don’t tell anyone) that i will return early, as early as June. *Dodges stone*, Hey stop that *dodges hammer* I… *dodges shovel*

Bro this is some exquisite writing! I’ve read every single episode, and your writing’s awesomely magical. in this last episode, though, bro, you’ve managed to surpass even yourself! I’m a serving Corper also (though I’m posted in a city, thank God :D), and these tales chronicling the inevitable clashes that occur when individuals from different cultures are thrown together in the quest to build a united nation resonate unforgettably with me…nno. By the way, have you thought about publishing at least the “NYSC Tales”, say on Okadabooks? I do hope you’ll consider that once the series is done. You’ve earned a well-deserved rest, sugbon ma se sun gbagbe ola o (hope you can read Yoruba now? Or the Kingsley of the tale ain’t an alter ego?)

Reverie
I shall count the minutes, ere you shall return
I shall knit the moments, with my heirloom kit
I shall stand by the wayside, and ask each wayfarer
Have you seen my Kingsley, he has left me hanging

He fashioned out a blog (a kind of journal, but online)
And filled it he with sweet stories (so now we’re addicted)
Then pulled he the rug from beneath our feet
Just as the focus tale was approaching its zenith

He pleaded fatigue, and a slow wasting of the body
But that was only the opinion of an interfering busybody
Be that as it may, the griot has flown his literary coop
The Good Lord rest him merry, and return to us him in a single piece
Anon

Phew, what a comment! This comment is everything there is in Literature: prose, poetry, drama! Mehn, you really dipped your hand into the depth of your time to do this. How do I respond to this comment? Sighs.

You see, whenever I tell people that I am a writer, they tend to ask, what have you written? Then I will start the unconvincing ‘I am working on a novel’, not any more. Today, if I am asked what I have written, I will bring out a printed copy of this comment, and show them. Yes, I am going to carry this comment in my pocket. I try not to allow comments enter my head, but this one is too tempting, so sugared that it could kill one with diabetes.

The only thing that spoilt this comment a little is the fact that it’s written by a guy. #winks. Minus 30%. #winks. But the remaining 70% is enough to drag me back, against my wish. That’s by the way.

Some people have also mentioned turning this series into a book, some went as far as suggesting television. I don’t usually take this literally; I mostly see it as meaning I wrote something worth reading, to which I return all the glories to God, who made me, this blog and everything possible. The God who bought a great ability like you to Hard Voices.

When I finally return I shall personally come to your door-mouth and give you the link. I need you to remain in this blog, and browse through the categories.